


Slow Realizations

by Luxie



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-17
Updated: 2012-03-17
Packaged: 2017-11-02 02:26:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 5,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/363980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luxie/pseuds/Luxie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a bunch of short one-shots about the development in Dean and Castiel's relationship that fit into the same universe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: Hell

Friendship dies and true love lies  
Night will fall and the dark will rise  
When a good man goes to war

 

"Brothers and sisters, find strength in our Father, the Lord."

Castiel, Angel of the Lord, can still hear the words, the war cry, echoing through his Grace, strengthening his faith; Angels do not despair, they don't feel doubt or fear. The fact that their Commander had felt the need to imbue the host of Angels with something as human as courage on this blackest of days spoke of the significance of the mission before them. They would need every ounce of faith they could muster.

Castiel, Angel of the Lord, can still feel the softness of the wind brushing past the edges of his true form, as gentle as a caress and as powerful as a tornado, and he revels in silence as he flexes his wings in his descend from Heaven to Hell.

Castiel, Angel of the Lord, can still see a small remnant of the multicoloured facets that the shimmering sunset sends across the creation of his Father. Soon there will be no more sunshine, soon there will be only darkness, dense and choking, and Castiel knows that he might never again see sunshine rippling across the surface of a lake. He might never again see a crisp beach leaf unfolding in a spring shower. He might never again see a seedling growing into a giant oak. But Castiel, Angel of the Lord, feels no fear, feels no doubt. He is a soldier of God and he will not despair.

The smell of decay is the first thing to hit Castiel, but as he and the other Angels make their way through The Gates of Hell, he can feel the air begin to tear at his very being. Angels are made from light, light cannot survive in Hell, and therefore Angels cannot survive in Hell, not without being tortured into madness. Castiel knows this.

Lucifer the Light Bearer had been their leader, the brightest and purest of lights, before he was cast into Hell, sent to a place where he could never again see his beloved stars, condemned to being trapped here in Hell and have his Grace ripped and shredded for all eternity. A poetic justice, perhaps, that he is now as murderous and flawed as the humans he had refused to kneel before.

The host of Angels breach the lower circles of Hell after years of battle, drenched in the stale blood of hundreds of thousands of Demons and Hell Hounds. Garish wounds are scarring their true forms, scars that will never heal, infected with the searing dust of Hell. Slowly their wings are singed, turning grey and then black. And they ache, their Grace stained and strained, but the Angels fight on. Never giving an inch, never losing sight of their purpose.

Castiel is not the strongest Angel here, by far. But as the Angel host fights their way through the Depts they are not protected by their divine powers. All they have is their Grace, burning dull but full of mission and their raw fighting skills. Castiel is a strong warrior, nimble and merciless in the face of his enemies and he outshines all his brothers and sisters, because this is his purpose, this is his destiny.

They have no idea how many Demons they cut through, it's an endless battle. All the Angels can do is to maim the Demons until they are so hurt that they must retreat to lick their wounds. But there is always a new Demon to fight, strong here in the foul Pit of Hell, empowered by the same presence that scorch the Angels.

Castiel allows himself to take in the entirety of the tortured landscape they pass through. This is it. This is the Darkness that creates and breeds his enemies. This is where Lucifer created his first and all of the millions after her. The Depths of Despair. Castiel thinks the name is fitting as he slowly feel his own hope falter. But he refuse to despair. Not even here. Especially not here.

The fight continues and Castiel watch his brothers and sisters die around him, the light in their eyes dying out like a flame being suffocated, and their Grace exploding in a brightness that hurt even the Angel's eyes after years of darkness. The radiance and immense force of a dying Angel gives a few days of calm rest for the remaining warriors, as the Demons are wiped out for miles or coiling back into the darkness in fear.

There is no difference between day or night here, like in Heaven time is a continuum, never changing, just passing. Therefore Castiel can't say what makes him suddenly aware that this is the day. Something shifts, even though nothing changes. It seems like they all feel it, they all know it, like a great shared cognisance informs them. The war is lost. The seal has been broken. The Righteous Man has been broken.

Castiel doesn't move for days, hours, weeks, seconds, fragments of time that have no meaning here, no meaning when facing the Apocalypse. He watches his brothers and sisters, some clearly too weak to make the journey back, some too weak to even be alive. Castiel isn't weak and he isn't broken either. His Grace still burns stronger than most because he still has a mission. They were send here to break free the Righteous Man and the orders hasn't changed.

And that is what he tells the Angels. They look at him in surprise, some even outraged. They have failed, definite and undeniably, but Castiel doesn't accept this and he won't let them either.

Castiel isn't one of the oldest Angels. He didn't experience the absence of light, but still he is old. He has fought countless of crusades, wars lasting hundreds of years, battles against creatures so powerful and impressive that hundreds of Angels lost their lives fighting just one. And yet somehow he is still here. But fighting their way into Hell, robbed of their powers, burned to their cores, the Angels have never felt weaker. And still they continue, going where Castiel leads them.

Ten years they add to their war in Hell, with just as many lives lost, added to the ones who died in their efforts to rush the Pit. But the Angels aren't in a rush now, there is nothing to stop, no marker to reach. Just one little soul, burning no brighter than the rest of the broken souls in Hell. Except to one Angel. Only Castiel feels the Righteous Man's soul as a beacon, bright and humming in the darkness. Without Castiel the Angels would never have found him, but then again, with out Castiel they would never have continued, they might not even be alive.

When they reach the Righteous Man he is unguarded, unprotected, an insignificant, broken soul as singed and wounded as the Angels who have fought their way to him through millions upon millions of Demons. But the Angels doesn't ask, is this what we fought and died for? Because they all know, they all understand what Hell can do to you.

And slowly Castiel walks the last few steps, eyes searching the face of the man in front of them. He seems unaware of their presence, or maybe just unaffected. But as Castiel reach out and gently lifts his chin the Righteous Man flinch away as if burned. His eyes rise up to meet Castiel's for the first time of many and Castiel has never seen such defeated self-hatred.

"Dean." Castiel whispers and at first the man doesn't react. He doesn't know he's supposed to, doesn't remember his own name. "Dean, it's okay. I'm here now. Angels are watching over you." And with those words Castiel wraps one arm around the broken soul and together with his brothers and sisters he begins the long journey back, with the soul safe in his arms.


	2. What Do You Want From Me?

Castiel doesn't understand what Dean wants from him. Or well, he understands what he wants, he's not unintelligent. He just doesn't understand how Dean can ask it of him.

Of cause Dean never really asked. He just assumed. And Castiel doesn't know why that lack of communication can be so vital and disturbing and horrible, but somehow it is. Once again Dean's assumptions piss Castiel off.

Dean's hands are on Castiel's vessel and his touch is soft, hesitant but still unyielding in a way that makes Castiel conclude that Dean really wants this, but isn't sure Castiel wants the same. And he would be right to be uncertain, because if Dean had taken the time to ask, Castiel is not sure he could have answered. He has no way of knowing if he would want this or not. Now all he knows is that Dean is silently asking something more of Castiel. And Castiel is not sure he can give it.

Can. Should. Want to. The concepts blur out and become indifferent. Certainly Castiel can. It's just a matter of not stopping Dean and that would be so easy, enjoyable even. Should he then, let this happen? It's a matter of morality, Castiel is aware. Humans and Angels are not meant to be physical. Angels are not meant to be physical. They last eternally and do not need to reproduce. Not that physical interaction with Dean would lead to reproduction, but that point is mute. When humans engage in sexual behavior it's to give and take, and Castiel doesn't think he has anymore to give at this point. Which leads him to the "want to".

Castiel has never denied Dean anything; he has never felt the need to. In fact he has been more than willing to give all he had to Dean in the past. But things change. Castiel has been around for enough millennia, through enough of the creation and the evolution and the downfall of his Father's masterpiece to know that things change. But unlike evolution the changes in Castiel's personality, the changes in the way his Grace pulse and shines, especially when Dean is around, the way love and loyalty is no longer synonyms with faith and obedience, well, unlike evolution these changes has happened so fast. Unbearably fast. And between going from not changing at all to an internal revolution of biblical proportions and Dean suddenly deciding to introduce every emotion known to man onto the Angel, Castiel is no longer sure he wants to risk it.

Castiel is scared that he is losing the last shreds of Angel he has left and feels suddenly too small to give all the things Dean wants from him and this makes "can", "should" and "want to" irrelevant.

So when Dean hesitantly rest his cheek against Castiel's and the Angel feels warm breath on his neck and hands slowly moving under his clothes to get to skin, Castiel allows himself a whimper of fear before he vanishes.


	3. The Hunter and The Angel

The Hunter watches wide eyed and breathless as a set of midnight blue wings unfolds in front of him, wrapping possessively around him and shielding him from the incoming demons. Even in their smoke form they can easily kill a man; the shear force of the impact is enough to send you down for the count, the Hunter knew this from experience.

But they cannot penetrate the energy field that is an Angel's wings, cannot even stand to be close to such pure power, so the demons circle the man and the Angel for a few seconds before giving up; this wasn't their mission anyway. And they rush away, wailing and shrieking following in their wake.

The Angel waits another heartbeat before lowering its wings, keeping them out, visible, ready.

"That was too close." The Hunter points out, stepping away from the Angel, but keeping his eyes on the winged creature. "I guess they had other dinner plans, or they wouldn't have given up so quickly."

"They were outnumbered anyway." The Angel's voice is calm, but its brow is creased, face concerned. "I could have burned them, but not without exposing you. I didn't want to run the risk."

"Yeah, well thanks for the notion." The Hunter jokes, crooked smile and a gleam in his eyes. "So anyway. This Vampire nest, can you burn them out too?"

The Angel shakes its head, eyes darting to the darkening night sky. "They have efficiently warded the entire forest. I can't even follow you in there."

The Hunter shrugs. It's nothing new; he's been hunting alone before. "I'll just do laps; take them out when they expose themselves to feed."

A sudden noise makes the Hunter jerk and turn to look into the darkness between the threes. The Angel's wings are flaring out in a warningly and aggressive gesture, but there is nothing there. Whatever had moved in the forest had moved fast.

"I'll bring us back to your motel." The Angel says quietly, pulling the dark wings close to its body. "You're not going in there tonight."

"That's for me to decide." The Hunter complains, but the Angel is already reaching up to touch the Hunter's forehead, vanishing its wings in the process. And then the odd couple is gone, and the night is quiet.

And to anyone who might have been hiding away in the darkness, watching this short display, they might have thought they had witnessed something spectacular, something astonishing and miraculous. But you would have to have been watching pretty closely to have seen what was truly spectacular: two sets of intense eyes interlocking, marveling in each other's unspoken emotions; fingers brushing gently against feathers, finding secret spots of pleasure at any given chance; lips holding back to keep from saying concerned and caring words.

That was the things that was truly amazing, that was the real wonder of the Angel and the Hunter.


	4. Freedom or Peace

Castiel's eyes slowly scanned the faces of the angels in front of him. Brothers, sisters that he had known for millennia, whom he had loved and respected, fought along side, risked his life for and shared moments of brief happiness with. Now they felt like strangers.

The angel-god didn't have to kill as many of his fellow angels as he had feared. Most of them could swear that they only followed Rafael out of fear and that they had thought to be loyalty to God, and Castiel could see the honesty in their hearts. But still Castiel felt exposed and betrayed, and he was getting more and more paranoid.

More than once he had found himself thinking of the simple friendship he had shared with Dean and Sam. Human emotions was still strange to him, and the new power that rushed through his vessel made him even more immune to feelings and emotions. But he remembered feeling happy, he remembered feeling accepted, and he remembered feeling loved.

With a weary sigh Castiel dismissed the angels, but didn't move once he was alone. He just remained motionless, staring out into nothing, but seeing everything.

An angel didn't need to rest or even sit down. He could stand for days, years in fact, just letting his mental eyes scan the world for any immediate danger, without feeling any sign of being tired. That had been his job for hundreds of years before he was assigned to Dean.

When he was around the Winchesters he usually sat out of courtesy, or to mimic their behavior, to make them more comfortable around him.

He didn't stay in the white room for long, though. Once he was sure his angels was safe he spread his wings and left Heaven.

To humans he would appear to step out of nowhere, but he actually did fly. The wings weren't just a show piece. When he spread them and flexed his muscles to fly, it was like no other feeling Castiel had ever known, complete and utter freedom. He had once heard Jimmy describing it like being strapped to a comet, and Castiel had liked the metaphor.

Before he knew it, he was standing in a room with pale blue walls. He didn't know the room, but it was home.

It was easy to steal a few minutes away from Heaven to watch the Winchester brothers sleep. He had done it many times while he had been exiled, and still found it soothing and interesting.

Sam was always serene. His face was peaceful and reminded Castiel of an innocent child.

Dean was... Different. His face was never peaceful and his body would often stir.

Castiel's eyes lingered on Dean's face, and he wondered for a second what the man was dreaming. He considered spying on his dreams, but decided against it. Dean didn't like it.

Castiel didn't know why he still cared about how Dean felt, why he considered the feelings of a man who had betrayed him so completely. He couldn't explain why he still came here, why he spent nights hovering over a man, who had spat right in his face.

All Castiel knew was, that there were no place he would rather be.

He had lost so many friends, old friends, brothers and sisters that he had sworn his life to protect. Some of them he had even killed himself. Some of them he had killed to keep Dean safe.

The angel-god cringed. Yes, he had done things he regretted. Balthazar, Rachel, he had loved them. Among all the angel casualties the war had claimed, those were the two he regretted losing the most, and they had died by his hand. Castiel raised his hand and looked at the palm, almost expecting to see the blood of his family there, but of course it was spotless.

But although he regretted the deaths of Baltazar and Rachel, even the deaths of his older brothers, he couldn't really find true remorse. They had died for their lack of faith, for their betrayal.

Castiel looked at the sleeping Dean and let his angel senses feel around him. He attuned his breath to Dean's and let his and Jimmy's heart vibrate at the same pace as Dean's. It was an almost therapeutic feeling.

He had always felt connected to Dean, ever since he raised him from hell. He had been warned by his older brothers. Not many angels had raised humans from perdition, and those who had, had found it to be a changing experience. The other angels had been aware of this and noticed the changes in Castiel before he had even been aware of them himself.

But Castiel had ignored their warnings. He was already lost to their words of caution.

Rachel had taken Castiel's hand once, and looked him in the eyes and asked him why he acted like the human's pet. Castiel hadn't seen it that way. Dean was his friend.

But as time passed Castiel started to question the bond himself, and when he had killed Balthazar for betraying him, but still protected Dean Winchester even though he had been the one to corrupt his brother, Castiel had gotten scared.

He had always come to Dean when he called, he had fought tooth and claw for Dean. Held him alive, perched on his shoulder, even in times when he had more important things to take care of. And Dean had betrayed him. And still Castiel found himself compelled to stand here and watch the man sleep, night after night.

A partial of a second Castiel thought about killing Dean himself.

What had happened to him? How had he become the guardian angel of a man who hated him, who feared him?

Castiel didn't have the answer. All he knew was that he still loved the human. Dean had caused a greater change in Castiel than anyone else. No angel had ever been changed so completely by one man. Dean had shown Castiel what it meant to be merciful, to be ruthless and compassionate at the same time. He had shaped Castiel into everything he was today.

How could he ever resent Dean, no matter what he had done, when it was Dean who freed him to begin with?

Castiel could have given up a million of times, he could have let the world end, he could have let apocalypse happen, but he hadn't. He had fought to every last breath, to save humanity. To save Dean.

Castiel didn't know if this was the will of God. God hadn't answered him. So in the end Castiel had given up on God, just like all of his brothers and sisters. In the end Castiel had faced death and exile and the raging powers of purgatory for Dean's sake alone.

And now here he stood, Dean's new enemie.

What had he done?

 

Can't you hear my call?  
Are you coming to get me now?  
I've been waiting for  
You to come rescue me.  
I need you to hold  
All of the sadness I cannot  
Live with inside of me.


	5. Nothing

It was one of those days, one of those perfect days that would later disappear in the madness of saving people and hunting things. Dean and Sam and Cas, Team Free Will, two brothers and a fallen Angel, were parked at an empty truck stop, the Impala facing a vast woodland disappearing in a display of pink, orange and pale blue around the setting sun.

The beer was cold, or tempered at least, the weather was warm for that time of the year and the three men were spent after a long hunt. Muscles were acing pleasantly, heads buzzing from the earlier adrenalin rush, and hearts content with how simple and good life could be, even here, in the middle of a broken world, falling to pieces around them, heading for the apocalypse. But just now, just for this one perfect day, the world wasn't ending and the three men weren't carrying the weight of the world on their shoulders.

Dean was on the hood, ankles crossed, beer resting on his thigh. Sam was leaned against the left side of the car, beer dangling from one hand by the neck, eyes scanning the top of the woods as the light dimmed and the air cooled. Cas was standing a few feet to the right, feet firmly planted, trench coat and jacket off for this one magic night, his white shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He too was holding a beer, but more out of courtesy than anything else.

"This is what it's like being human?" Castiel's deep voice breaks the silence, but it's not intruding; Castiel's voice is just as much part of the night as the crickets and the leaves rustling in the soft breeze.

Sam just smiles; this is one of the things he leaves to Dean. Dean looks up, eyes finding Castiel's in the dimming light as if they were homing beacons. "Some of the time, I guess. I mean, how the hell would we know?" There's a smile in his voice, and it's soft and teasing, not bitter like the smiles on his face usually are these days. And there's an afterthought to his expression, a lingering thought that he keeps unspoken.

"I don't think that anymore," Castiel says, eyes leaving Dean's and tracing distant stars instead, as if they are the only replacement he can find. Sam looks to Dean, who looks as if he's been kicked in the gut. Castiel doesn't turn to see Dean's expression, but continues his little musing. "That they are a better club."

And as for explanations it's a pretty bad one, Sam thinks, but Dean seems to get it, seems to be overwhelmed by it even, because his eyes lock on Castiel's back, hands clenching the beer for dear life and shoulders going tense.

And that's then Dean wakes, eyes blind in the darkness of the motel room, a sentence lingering in his ears, in his head: "You'll always belong to a better club, Cas. You always did. Humanity didn't change that. Nothing would ever change that."

And Dean is not sure, is never sure, if he said those words or if his subconscious mind has added them later. But he means them; he means them like no other words in the world. With a long exhale he lays his head back down, resting it on the pliable fabric of the trench coat.


	6. I Want All The Feelings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel Returns.

Castiel draws a deep breath, feeling the air in his lungs like a burden. A painful one. Or perhaps the pain is just in his chest and not in his lungs, it's hard to tell; he's not used to paying attention to his vessel, all the little quirks and oddities. But he feels them now. Blood pounding with a steady rhythm, even if it is much quicker now, he notices, too fast almost. Is it supposed to rush through so fast? And his stomach is clenching up, even though he's been eating like Dean taught him last time he was human. And he feels dizzy too, even with all the time he wastes these days just sleeping. It's such an infuriating waste. But in the end Castiel assumes that none of this is normal bodily behavior. In the end it all comes down to the man standing in front of him in the doorway, his face a mirror of the same things that Castiel feels at that moment.

And Dean looks at him with eyes so full of emotion. If it is joy or pain or forgiveness or blame, Castiel isn't able to say. He doesn't know those feelings well enough, is still confused by them when it's himself feeling them; he doesn't have the experience to interpret other people's emotion yet.

Dean is still standing there, face frozen in an emotion Castiel thinks is surprise, but bad surprise; he sees pain there. Pain he knows well enough. And just then Castiel regrets coming, thinks that perhaps it was too soon. But then Dean breaks out of his trance, and hands, arms are pulling Castiel into an embrace.

"Cas?" Dean's voice is hoarse, broken and Castiel pulls back to check if the other man is hurt, but Dean seems uninjured.

"Yes, it's really me, Dean." Castiel keeps his left hand on Dean's upper arm, and in response, Dean's right hand is clenching Castiel's arm, fingers digging into soft muscle. "But a shifter would say the same. Or a Demon. You should have checked before exposing yourself like that."

Dean is confused, but then he smiles, unwillingly it seems, because he tries to hide it, tries to make it go away, but he isn't doing such a good job of it, Castiel thinks. But it's okay, because Dean's smile makes Castiel smile and it feels so nice to smile again. Smiling was something he remembers doing with Dean. And then Dean isn't smiling anymore, instead the pain is back.

"Cas? You were dead, you were gone."

"I was, for a while." Castiel admits, stepping backwards, but Dean doesn't let go of his arm. "But apparently you didn't want me dead, so I was brought back. Again."

Dean is quiet, but it's not the dazed silence like before, it's a pensive silence, absorbed. "The hand…print?" He asks, hand slowly moving to rest over the scar on his shoulder.

"Is linking my grace to your soul. As long as you want me around I'll continue to be." Castiel tries to explain, but it's hard, these are things he's only ever speculated about earlier. He's not sure he can give Dean a better answer, but luckily Dean isn't looking for insightful enlightenments.

"So I brought you back? How? Why now?"

"Actually I was revived little over four months ago. I can't really explain to you the mechanics of the process…"

Dean is pulling away, fast and rough and Castiel is caught off guard. "Four months?"

When Castiel doesn't answer Dean continues in the same strained voice. "What the hell have you been doing for four months? Angel business?"

Castiel raises an eyebrow. He finally understands what Dean is mad about. "Dean, I'm not an Angel anymore."

Dean looks surprised, and then sad and then something else. There's always this emotion, one explicit emotion that Dean sometimes shows, that Castiel hasn't learned to interpret yet. "Why didn't you come back? Why didn't you… You left me, again." The last isn't even spoken out loud; it's a whisper melting into a move of lips.

Castiel winches. He had expected Dean to go down that road, he had expected the blame. But he will never get used to it. "I didn't want to come back before I had fixed myself, before I was able to redeem myself. I didn't want to be a burden."

Dean laughs a small, insecure laugh, but his face is still sad. "A burden? Cas you're such a child. You'll never be a burden to us." He steps forward, grapping Castiel's arms again, grip tight, getting tighter. "God, I've been absolutely ruined! You were gone, man." His arm slips lower, hands resting on Castiel's wrists. "I've missed you so much, we all have. God, I thought you were dead."

"I'm here Dean." Castiel ensures, but Dean doesn't seem to believe him. "I'm a squishy mortal human now, with no education except for being a warrior, no money and no possessions to my name, but I'm here."

"You always did know how to look at the bright sides of life." Dean whispers, moving closer and Castiel can feel the shift in the air, a change in Dean's mood.

"Well I learned the negative emotions faster." Castiel admits and almost smile as Dean tugs his hand, dragging him inside the empty motel room.

"I'll teach you some of the happier ones." Dean mumbles, smile on his face and Castiel follows easily, closing the door behind them.


	7. Specks Of Light

Dean opened his eyes and found himself on his back; blue sky with white, fluffy clouds was all he could see. A sun gleam caught his eyes and blinded him for a short moment; just long enough for him to allow himself to feel, noticing for the first time the ground beneath him - soft grass and sun-warm earth - and a peaceful, soothing presence all around him. Then a sudden realization made him recoil. He knew the feeling of this place; no matter what scenic environment this place would assume Dean had been here often enough to recognize the general feeling.

Heaven.

And he was utterly alone this time. No not alone. He realized with a sudden certainty that the little spark he had first assumed to be a gleam of sun had a very familiar feel to it.

And suddenly he knew what had disturbed his peace, as his soul recognized the tiny shard of Castiel's Grace.

He didn't know what he had been expecting, if he had assumed that Castiel would be standing here in Jimmy's form, waiting for him to finally enter heaven, this time for good.

But Castiel wasn't here. Not all of him, at least.

As the memory of Castiel flooded him and reminded him of moments he though he had lost, he wondered how long he had already been here. It seemed that the soothing peace in heaven was slowly erasing all the darkness, all the fear and doubt and shame and guilt. And although it felt amazing, Dean had a hard time recognizing himself with out those feelings.

Slowly Dean began to understand that it would just be a matter of time before he would no longer remember being alive, before these peaceful memories would be all he knew and remembered. Dean knew he only had so long to find Sam, to find every last atom of Castiel.

And just then he knew that he would spent every moment of that time looking for every single atom of the Angel, every last spark of his Grace. And then not even death would keep them apart, they would cling to each other and be joined so tight.

And so the last piece of consciousness that had been Dean Winchester joined the sparkling shard of Castiel's Grace and set out and his last quest under the brilliant stars, determined to find the atoms of the Angel who, had he been a human with a human soul, would have been Dean's soul mate.

Because Dean knew that soul mates rightfully belonged in the same heaven.


End file.
